


Wild Life

by thegirlwiththemouseyhair



Category: Velvet Goldmine
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:38:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwiththemouseyhair/pseuds/thegirlwiththemouseyhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven slice of life moments in the Curt/Arthur relationship. Post movie; established relationship. Vignettes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Backstage

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a shameless rip off of Doctor Who's Pond Life, which was a topical reference when I started collecting these vignettes.

He flinches the first time Curt kisses him in public. It’s not even that public, just backstage with the guys from Curt’s band and a couple of roadies - but the area’s crowded enough to make Arthur self-conscious. Curt pulls him closer. Arthur _would_ turn his face away, would never have done this before, but Curt is insistent and doing things with his tongue that are making Arthur’s face and body warm. He closes his eyes. The blood is rushing to his groin; he can feel the scrape of the stubble on Curt’s chin, hear one low whistle break the stunned silence of the people around them.

He stops listening to them.


	2. Blissful Confusion, I

It used to bother Curt, sometimes, the way Arthur looks at him. It’s almost too intense, too _loving_ , with all the baggage that entails - too much to live up to, or be responsible for. He used to catch Arthur’s gaze over a table or across a room and find himself itching to walk right out the door, muscle memory more than anything else. He’d come close to starting a few fights at those times, too, for the same reason.

He’s getting better though. Curt still thinks that nobody in their right mind should look at him the way Arthur does, but that doesn’t mean he has to throw him away - right? At least Curt tells himself that he doesn’t. He’s living very differently now; maybe, for the first time in years, it’s okay for him to hang onto someone who makes him happy. Maybe, for the first time, he’s not too fucked up to deserve that.

He teases Arthur and calls him sweet, anything to draw that shy smile onto the younger man’s face. What Arthur doesn’t know is that Curt had been worried Arthur is too sweet, too good for him and his life. He’s getting used to pushing those worries away, of course. He has resolved to keep this going for as long as possible rather than sabotage one of the best things that has ever happened to him.

But even now, there are times when Curt just has to turn away from a look or a touch. He’ll hear Arthur’s voice trail off behind him, and wish he could explain why he’s still running scared.

 


	3. Blissful Confusion, II

Arthur used to worry when Curt would call him sweet. He would laugh, of course, and smile as sincerely as he could - _be a sport_ , as they said - but he would be a little sick to his stomach, too. He used to fear that (any day now) Curt would say he was too sweet for him. He’d be too sweet, too boring - too something. Then that would be it. That would be enough for Curt to break things off, and Arthur would find himself back in his empty flat, alone again. He might just stay like that for another ten years, too frustrated and too preoccupied to meet anyone new. (Anyway, who could possibly replace what he has had with Curt?)

But Arthur is trying to be optimistic, to tell himself that those worst-case scenarios might not happen. He even wonders if - perhaps - “sweet” might just be a good thing when Curt says it. Curt might appreciate a little sweet and decent and stable in his life; after all, he’s always saying how hard he is trying to live cleanly and responsibly for a change.

Arthur tries to reassure himself in other ways, too. Sometimes, when Curt’s being moody, Arthur can just see him working to keep his temper in check, to avoid a scene. That must mean something. Or, sometimes, Curt will stop in the middle of a sentence or a kiss, look at Arthur, and smile with such pure happiness that, for one second, Arthur really believes everything will be all right for them.

Still, there are moments when Arthur tries to say something, or reaches out to touch Curt, only for him to turn away sharply. Arthur will stop then, his voice trailing off. He wonders when the other shoe will drop after all.

“What is it?” he asks, once, when Curt jerks away from him. For a moment Curt stands still, his back to Arthur, and Arthur just shakes his head. Then Curt turns around to face him again.

“Nothing,” he says. He smiles, that very tight smile that tells Arthur it is _not_ nothing.

“No, really,” Arthur says, keeping his voice low, “what is it?”

Curt draws close enough to cup Arthur’s face in his hand.

“Just forget it,” he says, and leans forward to kiss him. Arthur lets him, too confused to argue.


	4. To Change the World

He’d gotten sick of being quiet. It’s too unlike him, and yet, he hasn’t had his voice or been on sure footing in so long. Too long.

“What changed?” Arthur asks, grinning and congratulating him on the new album. Curt shrugs. It’s funny; he knows that getting clean, and _finding_ his footing has helped, though it has taken time.

There’s so much to scream about, too. Maybe more now than ever - AIDS, and the President, the whole fucking mess that is the world today. A mess like that needs people with the courage to raise hell.

Curt hates to admit it, but somehow, he had faltered; he had lost that courage for a while. And having Arthur has helped him more than he would have thought, more than anything. It’s as if he needs that look in Arthur’s face - the hero-worshiping fanboy who thinks _Curt Wild_ can change the world - or needs Arthur to believe in him, corny as that sounds.

It’s like being with someone who thinks he can do all that has allowed him to _try_ , again.

Him and Arthur, of all people. Just meek, quiet Arthur: he has to smile at the thought of it. Of _them_.

Curt thinks, _What happened? You._

But it would be too weird to get into all of that, so he just grins and takes Arthur’s arm and says “I dunno. Come to bed.”


	5. Chaos

“How is it?”Arthur asks. He has only just picked up the phone and heard Curt’s voice, yet the day is already brighter.

“Chaos,” Curt says, “but good. You know how it is.”

Arthur knows enough about touring to understand. He says, “You just got in?”

“Nah, we got in around three - their time here. I did call. You were out.”

“Sorry,” Arthur says. “I was just out for a walk.”

A pause, then a short, harsh laugh from Curt.

“In your area? You know you’re not living in some cute British village, right?”

Arthur rolls his eyes. As if he had _ever_ lived in a place like that.

“I’m fine. It’s not so bad.”

“Well, be careful. You’re too fucking beautiful to have anything bad happen to you.”

And Arthur, cradling the phone in one hand and looking past the building opposite at a patch of grey New York sky, just has to smile at the concern in his lover’s voice.

Curt, meanwhile, stretches out on the bed of his Austin hotel room, shakes his head, and laughs at his new boyfriend’s occasional and surprising naivete.


	6. Sometimes

Sometimes, Curt wakes up in the middle of the night with his cheek against Arthur’s shoulder or his arm around Arthur’s waist - something totally pathetic. He knows to pull back, even when he’s half-asleep. You don’t want to let anyone in like that, cling to him or her like you really need them, conscious or not. You just _don’t_.

But other times - and more often now - he doesn’t bother pulling away. Sometimes he’ll start to move his arm back, or turn his head, then stop himself. He’s lucky Arthur sleeps too soundly to notice him fidgeting. _Whatever_ , he thinks. _It’s ok. He’s -_ probably _\- not like Brian or any of them; he’stoo nice to run out on me like that..._

He’s even caught himself wondering if maybe, just maybe, you could hang on to someone, sometimes. Maybe things actually worked out once in a while - despite what all his experiences have taught him. He imagines the day, years from now, when some pretentious rock journalist with no life ( _sorry, Arthur_ ) will be writing the biography of Curt Wild. _In 1984, he met his long term partner..._

_Jesus fucking Christ_. So much sappy, improbable bullshit. And yet, Arthur makes him feel like a somebody, in a way that fame (when he had it) or shallow, giggling groupies, or even Brian never did. Why shouldn’t he try to keep Arthur around for as long as he can? Stay with someone who makes his life happier, saner, cleaner than he can remember? Why shouldn’t he _try_ , at least?  


	7. Wild Life

He’s a hard man to be with. Even at his happiest, when things are going so well, he’s hard - more impulsive than is good for either of us, and impossible to control in any way. Not that I want to control him. It’s just that sometimes, he could _really_ use it.

Last month it was the new motorbike and weaving in and out of New York traffic on it as if he knew what he was doing. No helmet, of course; I was sure he was going to break his head or something. At least he seems to be forgetting about that: he’ll probably pose with the bike in the album art for the new record, and then never use it again, good riddance.

Last week he was insisting that we should take a vacation together somewhere. I stared at him, tried to tell him that I just don’t have the money right now (and neither does he) - and, for a while, I really thought I might lose him, what with the shouting match that followed.

And of course I still remember the fight he picked with the barman at our old favourite bar , one of the few times since we’ve been together that he actually made the tabloids. They didn’t mention me staying back, settling the tab and trying to apologize before joining Curt. He was about as bad as I expected. _I_ was taking sides; _I_ was somehow working against him. I’m used to it, now. It would have been funny - him acting like a schoolgirl making a scene - if he didn’t get so damn vicious.

But he’s too easy to love. Even when he’s angry he’s incredible, magnetic. When things are good, he’s just so beautiful that I go right back to being that insecure kid who was lucky enough to shag him on a rooftop.

Well. Better: we’re giving it a good go, this time. I guess you could even say we’re happy together, hard as that is to believe.

“So, do we go out? Or just stay in and do pizza? We could open that Scotch...” He sprawls on the sofa beside me and grins. “Which is it, Arthur - Arthur Wild?”

 _Arthur Wild_. His latest silly idea, up there with “we should get a pet”, or the vacation - or the motorbike, for that matter. I shake my head, smiling.

“You choose.”

It’s always his choice, really. I can’t say no to him. And when he’s sprawled beside me, eyes bright, legs almost in my lap and fingers close enough to brush my thigh, is it any wonder?


End file.
